


A Thing With Feathers

by Sanjuno



Series: Truth In Hyperbole [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Because resurrection, Exaggerated age differences, M/M, Madara and Tobirama have an interesting dynamic, Madara blames Tobirama for everything, POV Uchiha Madara, Resolving that Romantic Tension, Senju are Shinso, The complicated process of courting your crush when you killed his little brother, To be fair he's usually right, Tobirama likes to think the laws of nature are more like guidelines, Tobirama made his mama proud, Uchiha are Tengu, but most of the time, look at him, not THIS time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12097563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanjuno/pseuds/Sanjuno
Summary: Uchiha Madara died. Stabbed in the back by the last person living that he called 'brother'.Uchiha Madara died. His heart chained and tainted andscreaminga warning that was never heard.Uchiha Madara died. He never managed to find happiness again.Uchiha Madara... woke up. He woke up with all of his brothers around him and wings on his back and a trio of Senju standing in the courtyard.(Senju Tobirama had someexplainingto do!)





	1. Words Not Spoken

**Author's Note:**

> For hamelin-born on tumblr, who asked for Madara's PoV on waking up in _Blood Price_. This one's for you, hon. ^_^

=/=

**(The devil is in the details, and sometimes the most important things is what _isn't_ said.)**

Cold and burning and pain as folded steel pierced his back, his heart, his chest. No hesitation, no questioning ‘why’. Just the blade, honed and sharpened, wielded by a hand that never wavered.

Shock as the sword was ripped from his body, widening the wound. A mortal blow, delivered by the man he had once called a brother.

He wanted to laugh, choking on blood as he was. He wanted to laugh even as his body fell towards the muddied ground.

Empty promises after all. Brothers and children still dead and dying and killing despite all the lauded Senju’s preaching. His voice and protests and warnings had all been dismissed by everyone as spite and jealousy. (Sharp red eyes watching him over the edge of a sake cup. The only one who still listened. The only one who wished him well when he left. When he broke… the only one who understood why he _had_ to leave. Why he could no longer stay.)

Choking on blood and mud ( _vines around his throat, dragging him down under the earth before he could blink. Chains of ink and pain around his heart and he screamed_.)

He had no air to scream. Betrayal etched yet another scar on his dying heart. At least now he finally knew the truth. At least now the pain would end.

(Unbidden, he remembered strong hands and pale skin, a sharp contrast to the dark tumble of his hair. Red eyes that saw clearly, even during abrupt retreats. Would his chains have been noticed by red eyes? Would his screams have been heard if only…)

If only…

The chakra at his back never wavered. No regrets. (Red eyes had been regretful, that night they had said farewell. They had never needed words to speak, and perhaps that was why he had never heard the words that would have let him stay.)

Izuna had been right after all.

(… my brother…)

Madara never should have trusted Hashirama.

(… my clan…)

Knees in the mud. Blood on his lips.

(… please, Tobirama, if you truly care for Kagami…)

Red turned to black. Dark eyes closed for the last time.

(… please, don’t let _him_ ruin another Uchiha…)

/…/

Cold. Achingly, bitterly cold.

“ _… Madara…_ ” Warmth touched him, carrying a hint of sorrow. Regret.

“ _… I’m sorry. I should have said…_ ” Warm, and strong. Righteous fury, like a thunderstorm trapped in a bottle.

“ _… I have you…_ ” Hands in his hair, soft and tender and not retreating. Why was he expecting those hands to draw away?

“ _… I’ll keep you safe now…_ ” The pain was gone. Banished.

Blood red eyes opened.

/…/

The world was made of fire, and the scream that left his throat was one of triumph as he rose to his feet.

… The fire was warm.

Entranced, he watched the flames dance over his bare skin for a moment before blinking the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. His body felt… odd. His thoughts were disjointed, his memories scattered. It felt like there were pieces of himself that were floating away.

“… Anija?” Shocked. Familiar. Long and dearly missed. (Long _dead_.)

Madara whirled on bare feet, embers scattering around his toes. The thought of what he would see terrified him ( _empty, accusing sockets weeping blood_ ) but even his nightmares had never kept him from answering that call. “Izuna!”

“Anija!” Blessedly whole, his eyes in their proper places, Izuna threw himself into Madara’s open arms regardless of their mutual nudity. “You’re _old_. What’s going _on_?”

“I don’t know.” Of course Madara had aged, Izuna had died nearly a _decade_ ago. Movement caught his eye and Madara looked down. “… You’re _all_ here.”

Izuna blinked as Madara pulled away from him. “What?”

“Minowa, Adatara, do you remember me? I’m your anija.” Crouched down to extend his hands to the small children sitting in a pile of ashy feathers, fortunately unburned by the embers still smouldering on the floor. Madara choked back the tears that threatened to overflow. “Asama, will you come to anija?”

“Anija?” Tiny, gods, so tiny. His youngest brother was so _small_. Only three when he died, and he had never had the chance to grow. Asama held out his little arms, pouting. “Anija, want up!”

“… Izu-nii?” Adatara blinked up at his gaping older brother, his twin silent and shy beside him. “You got taller!”

“Growing up does that.” Izuna’s voice was faint as he stared at his baby brothers. No wonder Madara looked like he had seen several ghosts. “Anija? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” There were three chakra signatures outside, one of which was a familiar hurricane of ice and lightning. “But I know who can explain it to us.”

With Asama perched on his hip and Minowa in hand, Madara threw open the door, heedless of the small fires still burning merrily throughout the room. “ ** _SENJU!_** ”

Behind him, Izuna gave an offended squeak, scrambling to pick Adatara up and follow his older brother outside. Madara ignored Izuna’s noisy flailing and stomped out into the courtyard. He had a mad scientist to interrogate.

Squinting to block out the early morning sun, Madara homed in on his target. There he was, utterly shameless despite being in the center of an unnatural calamity as usual. “What the hell have you _done_ , Senju?”

Tobirama blinked, more stripes than Madara was used to seeing on display. Pale skin and red slashes exposed by the ragged hems of a scandalously short yukata. The Senju was flanked by two boys who bore him a strong resemblance. His brothers, perhaps? The boys were both coated in something syrupy. The entire courtyard was redolent with the scent of crushed peaches. A white brow rose as Madara approached. “… You cannot seriously be blaming this on me.”

“Of course I can! I was dead! Very permanently dead!” Dead, and the scar from that deathblow remained. How his flesh could have healed, when Madara _knew_ he had died before hitting the ground… he was blaming Tobirama for that too. Stalking across the courtyard, Madara tried to ignore the odd feeling of feathers shifting under his hair. Tried to focus on the feeling of his brothers, warm and alive and _here_. If something happened that was against the laws of nature? Then Tobirama was usually at fault, and if it was not Tobirama then it was one of Tobirama’s _students_. Madara had learned at least that much about the man during their not-infrequent private drinking parties. “ _You’re_ the asshole with a zombie fetish!”

“I have never been sexually aroused by dead bodies.” Tobirama had fuzzy ears, striped like a tiger’s, and they _moved_. Gods, it served the crazy bastard right to get caught up in the backlash of whatever experiment had blown up in his face but _damn it_ the asshole had _no right_ to look cute when Madara wanted to yell at him!

“That is _not the point_!” The tears threatened to well up again, and Madara had to put his miraculously alive baby brothers down before he ended up dropping them. Immediately they were moving to poke the littler Senju, fascinated by the fuzzy tails. Tiny, down covered wings flapped in excitement, and Madara’s expression went flat. How could Tobirama _not understand_? Madara’s brothers had wings and Tobirama’s brothers had tails and they had _all been dead_ until… until, what? What had happened to bring them all here? Would it last, or would they all fall dead again without warning? “This is… is _impossible,_ Senju… _Tobirama_ , what have you _done_? You look… you look strange. And they – your brothers? And _my_ brothers. You have to have done _something_ , Tobirama!”

From where he was watching the five children interact, Izuna nodded in agreement, although he thankfully managed to remain silent. Izuna’s rivalry with Tobirama seemed to have been put aside for the moment, while Madara’s little brother processed the fact that his rival looked a good two decades older. Much like Madara had aged, Tobirama was an adult and looked it, while Izuna was still a teenager.

It was disconcerting.

“… I made a choice. I chose to fix my mistakes. I chose… you, Madara.” Pale fingers were warm, tipped in dark claws but still gentle against Madara’s skin. Staring into serious red eyes, Madara waited for the retreat. The perfect memory that was the blessing and curse of every born Uchiha quick to recall all the times before when Tobirama had withdrawn, pulled away, held his silence. Not so, this time. Fire licked under Madara’s skin as Tobirama smiled, shifting closer with easy grace. “I know it took… probably too long, but… forgive me anyway? I should have made things right with you sooner. Waiting until after we both died was cowardly of me, but… I could never think of a way to fix what I had broken when I struck Izuna down. It took me… far too long to understand how much you held back until you couldn’t any longer.”

That speech had to have been the longest string of words Madara had ever heard Tobirama speak at one time. An apology… it was what Madara had needed to hear. Not that Tobirama regretted killing his enemy, but that Madara had lost a brother. Tobirama _understood_ that he had caused Madara pain and the _took steps to make amends_.

… Admittedly bringing them all back from the dead was more than Madara had ever considered asking for, but no one had ever accused Senju Tobirama of thinking _small scale_.

“Idiot Senju.” Years of waiting and pent up attraction drove Madara forward. Hands fisted in the thin fabric of the threadbare collar, Madara surged up to catch Tobirama’s mouth with his own.

“Anija!” Izuna wailed, appalled and flailing. “ _Why him_?”

Madara ignored the screeching. _Years_ he had been patient. _Years_ of this stupid Senju bringing him wine and sweetmeats and advantages for his Clan. _Years_ of being courted and wooed and unable to respond as he wished because the stubborn jackass had forgotten to _use his words_ to say ‘I’m sorry’.

Madara pressed closer, and Tobirama _growled_ , the sound rough and ragged and _not human in the least_. Which helped remind Madara that Tobirama owed him an _explanation_. Only there were clawed hands pawing at Madara’s hips, gripping, hauling him closer. All but picking him up, a muscled thigh pressed between his legs, warm palms wrapped around the swell of his ass and _kneading_ and they needed to _stop now_ before their baby brothers got an education in bodywork far ahead of schedule.

“Nnh, Tobirama.” Madara pulled back, panting and dazed and oh _gods_ sharp teeth against his throat and he needed either privacy or pants but he needed them _now_. “We, ah, _gods_.”

“Hn.” Tobirama shivered, and Madara saw him glance sideways. Just enough to see the _appalled_ looks on the littler Senju’s faces. Izuna looked freshly traumatized, and the tiny faces of Madara’s youngest brothers looked mostly confused. Although Adatara seemed far too curious about what they were doing for Madara’s peace of mind. Tobirama’s face went blank. That was right, Senju, they had an audience. Madara glared, and Tobirama nodded. “… baths first?”

“That seems prudent.” Madara’s tone was dry as ashes.

“That way.” Tobirama indicated the correct path to Izuna, and promptly teleported away. Oh, _excellent_. They had a few minutes alone now.

“Tobirama!” Madara hissed, wings snapping out, glorious feathers catching the sunlight in a dazzling display. “Explain yourself!”

“I will.” Tobirama promised, looking into the spinning patterns of Madara’s Sharingan fearlessly. “Later. Our brother’s are following, and we need to calm down.”

Grumbling, Madara tossed his hair with a huff and looked away. “Everything is your fault.”

Looking amused, Tobirama moved to gather the bathing supplies just as Izuna stormed in, followed by a duckling line of little brothers. Izuna did not look impressed. “Get your hands off my brother, Senju!”

Rolling his eyes, Madara moved to help Asama bathe. Good thing Madara had kept hawks, before things had gotten bad. Cleaning both his own wings and his little brother’s was something Madara knew how to do. It would keep him busy while Izuna and Tobirama hashed things out between them.

/.../

Little brothers clean and clothed. Everyone fed and the youngest playing without reservations with their new friends in the courtyard. Madara nodded once to himself and turned to face Tobirama, determined not to get distracted this time.

“Now seriously.” The Senju had the audacity to try and look _innocent_ , and _confused_. Madara had _feathers_ growing out of his shoulder blades! Tobirama was not escaping responsibility for this! Madara leaned in closer with a growl. “ _Tell me what the fuck you did_.”

=/=


	2. Their Memory Lingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama explains what happened between their respective deaths and waking up in the temple courtyard. Madara takes this explanation surprisingly well, and Tobirama is given more than a few surprising insights into the Uchiha psyche that he really should have noticed sooner.
> 
> Madara is incredibly distracting, Izuna is sulking, and the children are adorable.
> 
> There is _nothing_ about this situation that Tobirama is unhappy about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly info dump and head canons. Plus, now that everyone in the temple is up to date things can move forward on the "learning how to be a mythological being" front.

=/=

**(Human memory is subject to change with the passing of time. Uchiha memory, well… Uchiha memory is _not_ human memory, now is it?)**

“Finally ready to explain, Senju?” The children had piled together for a nap in a snarled nest of blankets. Madara eased Kawarama’s foot off the joint of Adatara’s wing, silently despairing over the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

“About time!” Izuna snapped quietly, not wanting to disturb the younger children. The teen was still brash and confrontational, but the shock of their resurrection seemed to have eased some of the ever-present anger at the Senju the young Uchiha had carried before his death. “ _How_ are we not dead?”

“Sit down.” Tobirama sighed, looking at his younger brothers tangled together with Madara’s own and had to smile. This was, perhaps, the closest Tobirama had ever come to feeling like he had actually fulfilled Hashirama’s dream. If only the _way_ it had happened were less… fantastical. “I will tell you what I know, but be warned ahead of time that very little of what happened was my doing, or even within my control.

“You must be joking.” Madara twitched, black-opal feathers casting back gem-bright sparks of firelight. A taloned hand, nails longer and straighter than the sickle-hooks adorning the ends of Tobirama’s own fingers, gestured wide to indicate their current abode. “Even _without_ your obsessive preoccupation with pushing the limits of rationality and _basic common decency_ in your experiments, you cannot expect me to believe that you maintained this complex and the grounds as a _failsafe measure_.”

“Of course not.” Easily ignoring the jab at his research practices, Tobirama shrugged off the accusation. “I used seals. Maintenance is time consuming. And traceable. Some of the seals Mito brought with her from the Uzumaki had built in stasis properties. I increased the effectiveness of those and used the seals to prevent decay and weather damage to the structures. It managed to keep the vermin out too.”

“What the _hell_.” Izuna stared at his former rival in something close to betrayal as Madara shook his head. “Are you telling me you’re a _scholar_?”

Tobirama paused, eyeing the pair of Uchiha as Izuna gazed at him imploringly and Madara pressed knuckles to his brow, the elder brother’s expression torn between amusement and pained exasperation. Something about this seemed… off. Remembering some of Kagami’s odder comments, Tobirama had the strong suspicion that this was going to be yet another revelation of Uchiha particularities. “… Yes. Although it would be more accurate to call myself an innovator.”

“Ch’. How dare you! Leading me on like that!” Lightning crackles over bristling feathers, pretty and vaguely threatening, which was the Uchiha all over. Tobirama eyed each set of wings and their vastly different feather patterns with new consideration. Izuna ignored the attention and threw himself over Madara’s lap with a flounce and a theatrical pout. “You can _have_ him, Anija. I’m not even upset about you poaching anymore! A _scholar_ , yech.”

“Thank you, Izuna.” Madara dropped his hand, voice flat as he flicked his whining brother’s forehead. “How I longed for you blessing in my personal affairs.”

Face blank as he processed the possible meanings behind the Uchiha’s nearly cryptic conversation, Tobirama stared. That exchange had made it sound like… oh.

Well.

That… that put a rather _different_ spin on the Uchiha Clan’s wholesale tendency to favour the company of their rivals over all others but their family. It also explained their rather… antagonistic stance on friendships in general.

In retrospect, given this new information… the way Madara had stopped arguing with Hashirama, and the scrupulous politeness he had adopted when speaking to the Uchiha who had surrendered to the Senju before Hashirama had forced the treaty… those had been warning signs. Tobirama was kicking himself for missing something so _blatant_. The Uchiha as a whole had all but collapsed in relief after Tobirama and Madara had their first public screaming match.

It also explained why Kagami had been so fond of Madara, to the point of living with his Clan Head, despite the way Madara badgered the boy relentlessly. That Madara had allowed Kagami to learn from Tobirama, when both the right and power to deny the chance had been Madara’s… it spoke volumes. For Madara to grant permission for Tobirama to teach the boy widely acknowledged to be Madara’s apprentice…

Tobirama had thought it odd, at the time, that Madara spent more time arguing with him than laughing with Hashirama. When the time came to pass that even Tobirama could no longer spark Madara’s temper… well.

Hashirama had been the _only_ one surprised when Madara left. For all he grown quieter, and less argumentative, there had been no peace nor contentment in Madara’s aura. Only a steadily deepening melancholy, and a pervasive feeling of isolation.

Now though, after their miraculous rebirth…

Tobirama smiled, pleased by the warm joy suffusing the room. The sleepy comfort of the children, Izuna’s prickly mostly-jesting huff, the sly satisfaction of Madara watching over their family and finding it good. This was peace. This was contentment. Gleeful satisfaction had started bubbling merrily under Tobirama’s breastbone from the moment Madara had started screeching t him about feathers.

Although, speaking of feathers, Tobirama did still owe Madara that explanation.

“She did not give me her name, nor her Clan, but she claimed the Uchiha as her children.” Frowning, Tobirama sought to recall the details. The process of dying had taken up much of his attention, but he could remember _enough_. “I was already bleeding out, but she… suffocated me, I believe. The next I knew… I was standing on a riverbank, and my mother was telling me to keep silent.”

At that, he all of their attention. Itama’s mismatched eyes gleamed from where he was half-buried under the smallest Uchiha. “… You really saw Kaachan?”

“I did. She was the one who told me what I had to do so that I could live again.” Tobirama paused, glancing at the watchful eyes of the elder Uchiha. “So that _all_ of us could live again.”

“What instructions were those?” Madara shook out his wings, a peacock fan wrought of fire opals, and Tobirama’s entire body _twitched_ , aching to follow the movement, to chase and pounce and… it was not a _new_ impulse, but it was one that had been much easier to keep contained before rising from his grave. In turn there was Madara’s posturing, the bristling displays. So _integral_ to every Uchiha that Tobirama had ever interacted with that the sight of those wings simply filled in an empty space, the last few details of a newly-completed portrait. A sharp click of his tongue, and Madara smirked when Tobirama’s attention returned to the conversation. “And how much of those instructions did you _improve_ on, Tobirama?”

“Much. I think…” Easy to admit to, harder to verbalize the process when so much of those first days after crawling out from his grave had been driven by only half-understood instincts and fragments of overheard civilian superstitions. “I do not believe that it was intended for me to retrieve our younger brothers.”

Madara froze, perfectly still but for the narrowing of his eyes. “ _Explain_.”

“You and I were the only ones returned in whole to intact bodies. Our brothers…” A glance showed that the children were all awake, and listening. Good. This was something they should be aware of. “I had to collect them, the saplings and the eggs. My brothers I had to nurture into flower and fruit. The Uchiha eggs… you nested with them, even while you were… still asleep.”

Madara raised a sceptical brow. “Asleep?”

“You were as alive as I was when I found you after my resurrection.” A shrug and Tobirama looked away to gaze at his brothers again. “I am still unsure as to _what_ we are now, exactly, but I know that we are no longer fully human.”

“If we ever were.” Murmured Madara absently, idly straightening Izuna’s dishevelled feathers. Sparks of static licked over his talons without seeming to cause any damage or pain. The teen was still in his elder brother’s lap, making faces at the children when he was not glaring dire warnings at Tobirama for being overly familiar with Madara. A blink, and Madara hummed thoughtfully. “You three… peach trees. Hm. My brother’s and I are Tengu, obviously. Or at least so I would assume from the looks of us. You’d think that with your relation to Hashirama any Senju would become forest spirits, but Kotodama don’t take animal shapes…”

“Lions.” Izuna tugged on Kawarama’s ear in illustration, ignoring the youngest Senju’s objecting yelp. “Peach trees are supposed to be holy, right? And this is a temple. Shinso?”

“Maybe. It’s a broad enough term to do for now. At least until we’ve had a chance to fully explore what we’ve become.” Tucking his hair behind a feathered ear, Madara looked up from his brother and blinked at Tobirama. “What’s that look for?”

“… You’re taking this better than I expected.” Folding his hands together, Tobirama smirked. “I surprised. I expected much more in the way of screeching.”

“I don’t see why.” Madara shrugged dismissively. “The merchants and farmers… maybe the Senju didn’t care to pay attention to _why_ , but those people don’t have chakra. Shinobi do, and it’s for more reasons than just our training. Interacting with them… it’s disturbing. And the stories they told about us were all the same. Demons and monsters driven by their lust for spilled human blood. You know every tale contains a grain of truth.”

“And the Uchiha Clan… you knew about this. That shinobi might not be entirely human.” Tobirama shook his head. “Are there any other Clans that know?”

“The Uchiha _remember_.” Izuna frowned at Tobirama, trying for disdainful and landing on petulant. What had been irritating when they were of an age was criminally adorable now. Kami-sama, had Izuna really been so young when Tobirama cut him down? Ignorant of Tobirama’s thoughts, the teenage Uchiha scoffed. “That’s what we _do_. You’d think that after fighting us for so long you’d at least know _that_ much.”

“Tengu.” Tobirama mused, deliberately ignoring Izuna’s attempt to goad him. Instead Tobirama dredged up old bedtime stories from his childhood memories and recalled campfire tales told by his students. “Keepers of forests and mountains, who are said to bring news of war.”

“Shinso.” Madara offered in return. “Those who guard the gates, warding away evil fortune and destruction.”

“Fitting.” Tobirama nodded slowly. Not perfect but… close. Very close to the way his chakra had shifted. It felt almost right. Madara was correct in that putting a name to their species was enough for now. The finer details and definitions could be filled in later, at this point it was simply a relief to know something of what they had all become. Glancing around and noting that the children were close to sleep again, Tobirama smiled and offered Madara his hand. “Would you walk with me? There are matters of a more personal nature for us to discuss still, and the cubs are weary.”

“Hm.” Madara smiled, slow and wicked and promising as he shifted a gagging Izuna out of his lap and stood with lethally attractive grace. Deliberately ignoring Tobirama’s hand in a way that was less a snub and more along the lines of enticement. “Only if you can keep up, Senju.”

Madara strode away with a dramatic flare of wings a toss of his long, dark hair. Tobirama grinned. Well then. If Madara wished to _play_ …

Tobirama gave chase.

=/=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr's September Ask 7 of 9, a follow-up ask for their last ask by Hamelin-born who wanted Madara's reaction to Tobirama's promised explanation. More than a few of my "Uchiha-specific Courtship Practices" head canons snuck in here, which I suspect should amuse a few of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this piece came so easily. Madara's so much fun to write. He's so _irritated_ the salt just flows out onto the page. XP


End file.
